Chance Encounters
by LadieLazarus
Summary: AU. Set in 1980s London, Pete Wisdom meets ConJob's new girlfriend of the minute.


Title: Chance Encounters

Fandom: X-men/Hellblazer

Pairing: Pryde/Wisdom

Rating: PG

Prompt: 099 Writer's Choice- Sober

Summary: AU. Kitty Pryde is sent to live with her father in 1980s London, where he's been hiding from the Japanese mafia.

"What the fuck is _she_ doin' 'ere?"

Pete turned his head, waiting to see who Joanna was talking about. He had to admit it was the last person he'd ever have expected to see at Triage.

In fact, if you'd have asked him, before tonight, if he thought that Kit Pryde knew where Triage was, he'd have said no. And yet, here she was.

She looked good, too. Her t-shirt was shredded to perfection. Actually, it was shredded almost too perfectly, belying any actual punk cred upon more careful inspection. Her jean skirt and fishnets were equally artfully distressed, and Pete found himself wondering how long it had taken her to do it all.

She strode for the bar and began what looked like a friendly conversation with Marty and he realized that she must have been here before. He couldn't imagine that he'd missed her. Not when he and his entire group practically lived there.

Triage had been the site of many momentous occasions for Pete. He'd had his first cigarette there. His first illegal, and legal, drinks. His first drink until you puke binge. Hell, he'd lost his virginity in the filthy bathroom three years prior to the same Joanna who was currently wrinkling her nose in Pryde's direction. But, as great as Triage was, it certainly wouldn't have struck him as her kind of place.

Yet, here Pryde was, arriving on the scene as though she'd always been there. Of course, he realized, he wasn't entirely aware of her existence at all until recently when his sister had actually introduced them, so technically, she might have been there.

"Who's she?" Garth drawled from next to Pete. Anabelle was, as always, wrapped around Garth in a position that looked, to Pete, borderline painful.

"Some American bint. She's livin' wiv 'er Dad or sommat." Joanna answered. "Although, wot she's doin' 'ere, I'm sure I dunno."

"Well," Pete drained his pint glass, standing up determinedly, "One of us oughta go find out, then."

"She's a might fine lookin' piece o' work, anyway." Clyde eyed the girl up and down. "You sure yer just goin' over there to speak wiv 'er?"

"I am going to see wot's goin' on with 'er, as per Joanna's suggestion." Pete shrugged innocently. "But, should she desire to get to know some o' the more secluded spaces o' this wonderful establishment, then I'll just 'ave to buckle down an' give 'er the tour, won't I?"

"Yer shameless, mate." Garth shook his head. Joanna rolled her eyes.

"Careful you don't get frostbite, Wisdom. She looks like the type wot'll give it to yer."

"C'n smell yer own, is it?" Pete cocked an eyebrow. Joanna's games were getting old. She'd chucked him for Terry, after all.

He moved off in Pryde's direction. She was currently leaning against the bar, dragging a drink between the bar and her mouth with a look of vague disinterest on her face.

"This don' really seem like yer kinda place." Pete slid up to the bar next to her, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Pete, right?" She turned, looking him over. Pete never was not sure exactly how women got their make up to do that smudgey line thing, but he definitely appreciated the effort.

"That's me, luv."

"I'm not your love." She rolled her eyes. "I know you boys over here all think that that particular pet-name is all adorable and whatever, but it's the same as baby, sweetie, or honey, and I don't care for them either from boys I hardly know."

"Right. Cause Kitty's got so much more dignity."

"It's Kit." She pulled a packet of Silk Cuts out of the pocket of her jean skirt. "No one has called me Kitty in years, except for my dad, and frankly, he's on thin ice with it."

She started patting the pockets of her jeans, clearly looking for a lighter. Pete grabbed his from his pocket and struck it, holding the flame in her direction.

"Right. I'm sorry, Kit. You were introduced that way, an' it were terribly rude o' me ta forget a woman like you. Can I get you a drink?"

She eyed him warily, but leaned into the flame, lighting her cigarette.

"No. Thanks. I think I had better stay sober just now. Do women actually respond to shit like that?" She shook her head.

"Some o' them. So, anyway, I believe we were talkin' about wot yer doin' at an establishment like this."

"I come here sometimes."

"An' wot brings you 'ere on this particular occasion?"

"The band."

"Yer 'ere fer the band?"

"Yes." Kit observed his raised eyebrow with annoyance. "I can't like Mucous Membrane?"

"Kit," He dragged out her name, annoying her with the emphasis. "Nobody likes Mucous Membrane. They're terrible."

"You're here." She pointed out, taking another sip of her drink. Her fingernails were bright blue and sparkly.

"True. I'm always 'ere. That, an' one o' my mates is in the band."

"Oh."

"So wot really bring you 'ere. We know, now, that there's no way yer 'ere for the music."

"Actually I am." She shrugged. Pete was about to rag on her a bit more when a familiar person approached from behind Kit.

"There y'are, luv." For one brief, and slightly horrifying moment, Pete thought for sure that John Constantine was talking to him. But then, John slid his arms around Kit's waist, and the moment actually got even more horrifying. "I've been lookin' for you." He nodded in Pete's direction. "Hullo, mate."

"John." Pete nodded back. What in the seven hells was going on, here?

"I was running late." Kit leaned back into the embrace, handing him her cigarette when he reached for it. "My dad took forever getting out of the house."

"Ah. Well you didn't miss the set. So, I suppose I'll forgive you."

"Aw. Well, thanks." She rolled her eyes, taking her fag back from him. "So, you know Pete?"

"Yeah." John shrugged. "Wisdom an' I go way back. The real question is how you know 'im."

"I'm his sister's lab partner in biology."

"Right. School. I remember that vaguely." John grinned.

"Well, since you two are so friendly, I'm gonna go run to the bathroom before you guys go on." Kitty turned in the embrace, stretching up to kiss John on the cheek. He turned his head at the last minute, changing her innocent peck into a fairly intense kiss. She broke away, smacking him gently on the shoulder in a way that suggested that she actually had little problem with it.

"It's called a loo, luv." John smirked, letting her go after a not-so-subtle grope of her ass. He took her cigarette from her again.

"Whatever." She moved off in the direction of the restrooms, leaving Pete and John at the bar.

"Oy, Marty." John signaled to the bartender. "Jack Daniels, on the rocks." He turned back to Wisdom. "Lager still yer poison?"

"Yeah."

"An' get another lager fer Wisdom, too, Marty. 'S on me."

"Cheers, mate." Pete nodded.

The drinks arrived and the two men stood, drinking and smoking.

"She's somethin' isn't she?" John lit another cigarette off of the end of the one he'd stolen from Kitty.

"Who? Pryde?" Pete knew that his attempts to sound nonchalant had failed. John smirked at him.

"Yeah. Kit." He ashed his cigarette. "Y'ever think you'd find me with a girl whose name is that normal?"

"Heh." Pete snorted. "Whatever happened to Detriment, or wotsit?"

"Desmonia. An', turns out, Detriment were a better name fer that one." John shook his head. "A horror if ever I've been in the presence o' one."

"Right. Been there, mate." Pete chuckled. "Nah. Kit's somethin'. Not bad lookin' fer an American." He took another drink of beer. "Not quite what I pictured yer speed, though."

"Heh." John shrugged. "She's different, that's fer sure."

"Damn straight." He shook his head. "I didn't think that uptight American virgins were yer type, so much."

"Virgins?" John raised an eyebrow, a smile on his face that Pete knew all too well. "Who said anything about virgins?"

"You mean she…"

"Oh yeah." John nodded, the grin doubling in size. "Like you wouldn't believe."

Pete couldn't explain it, but, at that moment, he really wanted to hit John.

"Yer too old for 'er." He put out his cigarette.

"So? Take what yer can get, right?" John shrugged. "An' what I can get from that one might just be enough fer me fer a while."

"Huh." Pete was taken aback. "So are you two like… a thing or what?"

"God, no." John laughed. "You know I don't do the one fer all thing. I'd much rather keep the options open."

"Right. An excellent plan, mate." Pete drank the rest of his beer. Open options were good. "So she's really that good a shag, huh?"

"One of the best I've ever 'ad." John waggled his eyebrows. "Take my advice. You ever get the chance, find out fer yerself."

"Did you just give me permission to try to get in yer girl's knickers, Conjob?"

"Well, not tonight. I've got frontman mojo workin' fer me tonight." He winked at Pete. "There's nothin' better than frontman mojo. The clothes just melt off."

Pete really wanted to hit him.

"Got it."

"But, I'll probably be done with 'er around next week." John shrugged. "Can't stay too long in one place. That's how fun turns into 'Where is this goin'?'" He shook his head. "Not me, mate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go get ready. Tell Kit I'll meet 'er afterwards."

"Right." Pete nodded, watching as his friend departed for the stage.


End file.
